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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715915">Hyacinths In Bloom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockinrine/pseuds/mockinrine'>mockinrine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiel Travels, M/M, Post-Finale Castiel, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Time Travel, these tags shall be updated as i go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:55:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockinrine/pseuds/mockinrine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was lost in the Empty for so long, cold and alone. Suddenly, he wakes up in a flower field at the rise of dawn, with Dean Winchester's familiar voice calling out to him. He knows, right away, that this isn't the same Dean, the one he's known for a decade, the one who's come to love him back. He's younger, more hopeful, and untouched by Hell's horrors.</p>
<p>It's 2004 and two young men start to travel the country in search for answers, as they fall in love all over again. </p>
<p>If only it were that easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hyacinths In Bloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello, all! nothing quite like a dumpster fire of a semi-canon confession, heaven cars, and canon spanish confessions to get me into destiel again. i love time travel stories, especially when they can help FIX things too. :) i'm not entirely sure if this is a concept people will be on board with, so please give sorta sample chapter a read and lmk at the end, ty!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>CHAPTER I</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Like a stranger within his own limbs, Castiel felt the cool splatter of a single drop of water on his foreign skin. Was it raining? Was this his own being? Was it his own existence? He dared to open his eyes, and his heart sunk at first, believing he was subjected to the same miserable darkness that had become his only familiarity in that timeless void. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until he saw them: the stars. Risen from beneath that glimmering blanket was the Moon, full and bright, its soft glow dispersing the black of the night. Castiel realized he was lying down somewhere, on an uneven surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another cool droplet hit his hand, and this time his head turned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not rain,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the first coherent thought he managed to put together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s dew. It’s a drop of dew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crystalline beads gently glided along the colorful petals of the flowers filling the field. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hyacinths</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Castiel acknowledged. Unique in shape, impossible to misread as something else. Blue, and violet, and pink, and white, these patches of earth came alive with the colors of spring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a voice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Castiel thought, his fingers moving numbly. He felt comfortable and solaced, in the comforting arms of that flowery perfume and under the first speckles of light he’d witnessed in such a long time. He didn’t remember why or how that came to be; he only knew that he’d had too much darkness than he could handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, here’s the deal,” the voice spoke to him again. It sounded from a mid distance, not close, but not too far either. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s so familiar and homely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m gonna catcall you one more time and then I’ll get this wheel steerin’. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>alright</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took Castiel a moment or two, but he believed he eventually figured out the real message hidden behind the veil of those slightly confusing words: someone was talking to him, and if he wouldn’t answer, they’d leave. He moved his arms and perched himself up on his own elbows, peering over the swaying hyacinths and toward the bright lights of a car. Its engine was still purring, and that sound awakened a new layer of recognition in him, like reminiscing of home at the tune of a crackling fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… okay,” Castiel finally spoke up. He didn’t entirely believe his own words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The recipient of his message climbed out of the car, tall and light brown of hair, donned in denim and a brown leather jacket speckled by the passage of time. An amulet dangled around his neck and the rings embellishing his hands gleamed when his fingers intertwined atop of the open car door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?” he asked, with a quick furrow of his brow. “I can give you a ride to a hospital if you’re hurt. Not really hootin’ for the damn places, not gonna lie, but… I’ll just give you a shove without stopping and be on my merry way.” He huffed, like he was refraining from being amused by his own words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It came to him all at once, but with careful softness, like he could be charred and burned by the mere reveal of a memory. As he slowly willed himself up to his feet, Castiel kept his gaze on Dean Winchester like a deer in the headlights. He remembered Dean. He remembered the faithless man he’d raised from perdition, his rebellion against Heaven, their alliances and their fights. And, most importantly, Castiel remembered his </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> for this wonderful man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this… this didn’t resemble Dean the way he’d last seen him. With only a couple of steps closer to the waiting Impala, Castiel found less creases lining Dean’s face and a youthful glow in the green of his eyes like he’d never seen before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What year are we in?” Castiel suddenly found himself asking. He knew it would come across as odd, but he was more concerned over getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>quick</span>
  </em>
  <span> answers. Plus, this was Dean. Dean would frown, mumble, but engage -- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>accept</span>
  </em>
  <span> his oddness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhhh…” There came the frown, and then the mumbles. “Last I checked it was 2004.” He paused, giving Castiel a wary lookover. “What is it? Time travel? Frat party gone too wild? You gonna turn into Mercury Man if I stab you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I am not a Terminator,” Castiel responded, slightly distracted by all the questions running rampant in his head. And through all of them, he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>kept staring</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For a moment, Dean fell silent and looked back -- across those headlights and the flowers basking in their brightness. Their gazes were reaching out for each other, their fingertips not quite touching yet and Castiel’s chest stirring with the waves of emotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a single warning sign, Dean reached for his belt and he had his gun out and pointed before Castiel could even process what was happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, who the hell are you?” Dean’s whole demeanor was different, the playful curiosity sparked in his eyes replaced by an ironclad determination. This was Dean Winchester, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Better question: </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel couldn’t say it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>characteristic</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Dean to have his guard up, even if it bordered paranoia, but he truly struggled to pinpoint the trigger that could have boiled his suspicion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, I’m,” Castiel blinked, slowly holding up a hand as a sign of peace, “my name is Castiel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Castiel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Castiel Novak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s glare narrowed further, as he most likely tried to assess the situation. Finally, he tentatively lowered his gun, but not without a hissed cuss that fell right through his gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he muttered. “Just my damn luck to run into some Christian zealot. Only people like that would name their kid </span>
  <em>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, lemme tell you that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel felt the smile that started to spread to his face. He was still very much confused, very much without a good chunk of his memories, and very much aware that he had to be careful if this </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> was a time traveling situation. But it was hard to reel in the fondness he felt. He may not have been able to remember the details, how he got to that field, or what was the last time he’d seen Dean, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d missed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My father was definitely a very religious man,” Castiel answered, softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s head turned sideways and Castiel recognized that look all too well, the one that betrayed the heavy flow of thoughts in his mind, thoughts that he simply wouldn’t let out on his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” was Dean’s plain reply. “Alright, whatever. If the damsel ain’t distressin’, who am I to stand in the way of,” he glanced around at the field, doing an open gesture toward it, “whatever the hell you’re doing here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only when Dean set foot back inside the Impala that Castiel was struck with the dreadful realization that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>losing him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn’t remember how he and Dean (the other one, the one he’d known) had parted. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All he had was this lingering feeling that it had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because his stomach twisted and turned at the thought of Dean walking away in that very moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” Castiel blurted out, with enough conviction to keep Dean from sitting down. There was nothing but quiet and Castiel’s realization that the sun was starting to rise. He had to think fast. “You never told me your name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean pulled his foot out of the car and eyed him curiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” he said, dubiously. “It’s Dean. Why’re you asking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to be Dean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Winchester,</span>
  </em>
  <span> would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s frown deepened, “And again I ask: what’s it to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m friends with your brother. With Sam,” Castiel explained, feeling grateful that the dawn was still dark enough to cover up his nervousness. Lying wasn’t his forte, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he needed to find something to reel in Dean’s trust without risking a disastrous ripple effect into the future by revealing too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m also a hunter,” Castiel continued. “Not that Sam would know that, of course. Right now, he’s…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>The year is 2004. The year is 2004</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “He’s living a normal life at Stanford, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For better or for worse, there was some effect from his words. Dean’s demeanor seemed to loosen a bit, but while he appeared less guardedly suspicious, he still didn’t look entirely too pleased with Castiel’s presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you were passed out in the crack ass of nothin’ at 6 AM? You on a hunt?” Dean asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For this instance, Castiel decided he could be honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not too sure I can tell you. My memories are a bit foggy. I can’t even remember how I got here,” he confessed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was at that point that Castiel was really starting to stew in his own misery. He could remember the grand things, the big things. He could remember who he was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was, he remembered Dean and the important steps of their journey, he remembered Sam and Jack, he remembered his long and lonely existence, but… that was it. He was still missing pieces, ones that could hopefully explain the valleys in his chest, the murmurs of pain, and his quiet inner dread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, alright.” Dean scratched at his cheek, and then cleared his throat. “Anythin’ I can do to, y’know, help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good question</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Castiel considered it carefully, determining what his most urgent goals were. He just knew he didn’t want to part ways with Dean. Not yet, not until he could figure out what was happening (maybe not ever), and not when doing so would leave him with such an acute sense of longing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some rest would be nice,” he admitted, offering a small smile in addition. “Would it be too much to ask if you could drop me at a motel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel wondered if he was even an angel anymore. He didn’t feel like one, but he didn’t feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. Maybe he’d just forgotten how to be an angel, like how he’d forgotten all the other important details. All he knew was that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> need rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure it would,” Dean jested in response. As he dared get closer to the car, Castiel noticed that he was grinning. “Next thing I know, you’re gonna ask for my liver.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, despite that remark and the lightheartedness of it, Castiel felt the conclusion was… well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>inconclusive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Dean must have picked up on that, because he added, “C’mon, get in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel reached for the door on the passenger’s seat, but stopped when Dean stole his attention with a quick whistle, “Back’s better if you wanna snooze.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though Dean was so clearly different that very moment, the Impala was still the same one he’d always known. Castiel supposed that, in a way, it was the one staple of immovability, the element that had not been eroded by time. While all of them had been chipped at by sorrows and hardships, the Impala was the resistance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He allowed himself to feel content as he laid across the backseat, crooked enough to not get any shoe dirt over it. He definitely remembered how much Dean cherished the car, and it only made his gesture of allowing a stranger to get some rest in it that much reflective of his big heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel felt the movement of the car as Dean finally claimed his driver’s seat and shut the door. The sound of the key’s turn felt like a cue for his being to relax, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay conscious. He didn’t believe this was sleepiness, but a different kind of pull, stronger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Comfy?” asked Dean, tossing a glance over his shoulder, which Castiel caught from the corner of his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s far better than the ground.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just don’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> comfy, alright.” The engine roared and Dean’s hand curled around the steering wheel. “Drool on my seats and I’ll dump your Dorothy ass back in the poppy field, got it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel withheld a smile, letting his eyelids drape over his blues, “Got it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>some feedback would be appreciated so i know if people would like to see more! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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